Patti Hartigan: March 2010 Archives

Every now and then, I read something about a brilliant new idea and the warning bells go off before I get to the end of the first sentence. Here's the latest example from the London Times. It seems the education director of the Scottish Opera has come up with a marketing scheme "groundbreaking" program to introduce children to the opera. We're not talking about walking, talking tots who might be able to sit through, say, "Peter and the Wolf,''  but rather the creeping, crawling set. The opera is staging a piece called "Baby O" for children age six- to eighteen months, and it sounds like an ordeal for parents and performers alike. No lyrics, no plot, and apparently no orchestra. Just this:

Classically trained singers will create baby-friendly noises, such as Wellington boots splashing in puddles, buzzing bees, quacking ducks and the fluttering of feathers.

Ding, ding, ding, ding, ding!

(That was the alarm bell.)

For a number of reasons, I've spent the last year immersed in education reporting, so it's nice to be back here thinking and talking about the arts. These two worlds intersect in critical ways, as today's kids are tomorrow's artists. I don't know about you, but my best school daze memories have nothing to do with the rote drills or the bubble tests. Chemistry? Feh. I only remember the teacher screaming at me when I picked up a pile of lye pellets because I thought they were pretty. But I do remember field trips to Lincoln Center, where we worked backstage with a director I would later interview. Physics is fuzzy, but I fondly recall finger painting in kindergarten and writing angst-ridden poetry in a class led by a teacher who didn't make fun of my adolescent musings.

I was reminded of this the other night during the Oscars when Michael Ciacchino won for his original score for "Up." He skipped the usual shout-outs to agents and higher powers and, instead, went right back to the beginning.

I was nine and I asked my dad, "Can I have your movie camera? That old, wind-up 8 millimeter camera that was in your drawer?" And he goes, "Sure, take it." And I took it and I started making movies with it and I started being as creative as I could, and never once in my life did my parents ever say, "What you're doing is a waste of time." Never. And I grew up, I had teachers, I had colleagues, I had people that I worked with all through my life who always told me what you're doing is not a waste of time. So that was normal to me that it was OK to do that. I know there are kids out there that don't have that support system so if you're out there and you're listening, listen to me: If you want to be creative, get out there and do it. It's not a waste of time. Do it. OK?